Cognac Diamonds and a Guy Named Roby
by Nina La Vough
Summary: In order to prove their feelings for each other, both Woody and Jordan sacrifice something in order to buy the other a Christmas present to make the other happy. Loosely based on the O.Henry classic, The Gift of the Magi.
1. Window Shopping

**Merry Christmas from Nina...this time co-written by jmkw and nccjan. This story is roughly based on the O. Henry classic, The Gift of the Magi. So sit back...fix a up of your favorite warm beverage...and enjoy. Happy Holidays!**

**Disclaimer: We don't own Crossing Jordan. If we did, there would be more Woody and Jordan moments like the ones that follow. **

**Warning: This may be a two Kleenex story. And maybe a cold shower at the end.**

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Window Shopping**

"Only two more shopping days left until Christmas," the overly cheerful DJ announced through the radio in Jordan's El Camino. "Better go on those last minute shopping trips, wrap those presents, trim that tree, and get the turkey out, folks. It's Santa Claus count down time…."

"Ho, ho, ho," grumbled Jordan back at her radio, all the while searching for a parking place. She had left work a couple of hours early under the guise of buying a few last minute Christmas gifts. And while the last minute gifts weren't exactly a guise, most of her shopping was already done -- the pitiful, small amount it was. Nigel. Bug. Lily. Garret. She hadn't heard from Max in months and had no idea where to even send his gift.

No, there was one more present she needed to get…had to get … wanted to buy. She finally squeezed her truck into a parking place downtown and hit the sidewalk. She was looking for a present for Woody.

Even though they had barely remained civil with one another during the past several months, Jordan's feelings for him had not changed. Even through Danny…and then JD, her heart remained the detective's, although Woody was unaware of the fact. Danny and even JD had been her attempts to fill the void in her heart that Woody had left.

And both men had failed to measure up. Miserably.

She needed something special…something wonderful…to let Woody know that he was loved….not that she would even dare to put her name on the gift because she was sure that if he found out who it was from, he would refuse it. But she wanted to give him something nice to let him know that he was cared about….and Jordan had a sneaky suspicion that was an emotion sorely lacking in the detective's life right now, but one he sorely needed. So even though it was going to be anonymous, Jordan was hell-bent and heaven-bound to buy him something he had always wanted….even if she didn't have the faintest idea of where to start.

Pounding the pavement for a half an hour and coming up empty, she found herself standing in front of a jewelry store…Sterling Jewelry….not very far away from the morgue or the precinct where Woody worked. Stopping to gaze in the window, two things caught her eye. The first was an eye-popping array of men's watches…from Rolodex to Timex, it was there. Woody's watch had been giving him problems for the last month…maybe a new watch was what she needed to buy him…but then her gaze glanced downward from the watches to a lady's necklace and earring set. The jewelry was set in the latest bohemian type of fashion, but even a novice's eye could note that this wasn't modern jewelry. It was and antique-looking set of costume jewlery…and was set with a stone that Jordan couldn't put a name on, but knew instinctively that it matched her eyes perfectly. _Gosh…I would love to have that set_, she thought. _But this year, it's not about me…it's about him…he needs to know that he's loved…even if he doesn't know by whom…_

Jordan was so engrossed in her thoughts that the jangle of the bell over the jewelry store door made her jump. And the voice coming after that jangle made her nearly crawl out of her skin.

"Fancy meeting you here." It was cold. It was indifferent and harsh.

It was Woody.

"Oh, hi…"

"Christmas shopping?"

Jordan shook her head. _He can't find out_. "No…my Christmas shopping is done. Garret let me off work a little early and I'm just out….window shopping to kill time."

_Window shopping? Jordan doesn't seem like the type…still… it is Christmas_. His curiosity got the best of him. "So what are you looking at?"

Jordan pointed to the bohemian jewelry set. "That."

Woody mentally gave a low whistle. It looked like Jordan. Unconventional. One of a kind. But fragile and beautiful all at the same time. And matched her eyes and hair. _God, that would look so good on her… and from the tone of her voice, she really wants it._ "Nice set," he gruffly replied, swallowing his thoughts.

"Yeah, it is. Maybe I'll get it for myself for Christmas. So what are you doing here? Christmas shopping, too?"

If Jordan would have compared her pitiful, small number of presents she had to buy to the sum zero number of gifts that were under Woody's tree, the pity that the detective feared she had for him would have been realized. "No, no," he continued, still gruff. "I'm through with that. I'm had to get my watch repaired." _Okay, so it was a half-lie, half-truth…_

"Ah. Maybe you should have bought a new one for yourself for Christmas…" Jordan hedged, hoping that if he had been eyeing a new watch, now he would clue her into which one.

"Nope. I have my eye on a 1930 19876FT antique roby."

"Roby?"

"Antique robot. I collect them…antique robots that is. And that one is rare. There's only one dealer that has one in stock in an antique gallery that has old toys, about three blocks from here."

"So you're getting yourself that for Christmas?"

"If it doesn't cost too much. Antique robots can be kind of expensive, because there really weren't a whole lot of them made. And if they're in good condition, like this one is, well…the cost really shoots up." He was talking like the old Woody, enthusiasm lacing his words.

"I'm glad you found one, then." Jordan smiled at him, glad to finally hear something that at least faintly resembled the man she once knew.

Woody's face suddenly darkened. "I doubt I'll be able to afford it, though. At least not for Christmas. My out-of-pocket medical expenses have about broke me…I can't even afford to fly home to Wisconsin for Christmas," his voice dropped a notch and Jordan was sure she heard regret.

But just as quickly, Woody recovered. "But there's always after Christmas sales and such. Maybe I'll get lucky."

"Maybe. I hope you do, Woody." Her voice held a note of guileless sincerity.

"Thanks," he hesitated for just a minute, scenes of old times and a well-worn past friendship flitting like blinking Christmas lights through his mind. Finally, he couldn't take her gaze any longer…a look that was still tinged with hurt. "Well, I need to get back to the precinct," he finally said. "Merry Christmas, Jordan."

"Merry Christmas, Wood…" her voice trailed off. He had already turned on his heel and was gone…leaving her out in the cold once again.


	2. Christmas Cards and Old TV Movies

**Chapter 2**

**Christmas Cards and Old TV Movies**

The low winter sun had set and the temperatures were dropping quickly from the frigid wind off the bay by the time Jordan found the antique shop Woody was talking about. She gingerly peeled her gloves off her half frozen fingers and ran her hand through her wavy hair the second she walked into the dark, dusty shop, dislodging a fine dusting of snowflakes from its length.

_Christmas was a time for giving and New Year's a time for fresh starts_. At least that's what she read on the Christmas card Emmy gave her earlier. Thinking about it, she figured that maybe, just maybe, she could convince herself that what she was about to do wouldn't be considered a desperate bribe in most feminist circles.

Through the darkness she heard a voice that sounded as old as the goods it was surrounded by. "May I help you?"

Squinting, she saw an older gentleman standing behind a long glass counter like the kind used in jewelry shops. Only this one didn't showcase diamonds, it was lined with everything from discarded tourist trinkets from a generation ago to those little matchbox cars she remembered Jimmy Connelly use to play with.

"Hi, good evening...I understand you have a 1930 toy robot..."

"Ah, yes, the 19876FT Roby...in good condition including box. A fine, fine specimen."

"I'd like to buy it."

"Wait, don't you want to inspect it first?"

Jordan shook her head. She had no idea what she'd be looking at anyway. "...Oh...Do you have a payment plan?" she added charmingly.

Jordan had to admit at first she was a little under whelmed by the pressed-tin throwback from a scene from the silent movie _Metropolis..._ but than again Jordan's idea of an investment had more to do with an end-of-the-season sale at the Gap. Not that she'd be shopping for herself anytime to soon. A thousand dollars was going to set her back a little...over the next 90 days.

She had to remind herself that this was something Woody would appreciate it. The dirty, lightly scratched surface didn't seem to make sense at first. That was until she really looked at it.

Running her hands over the cool surface Jordan wondered about its history. She wondered how the slight indentation on the body got there or the rust spots on the soles of the feet. She knew forensically all those questions could probably be answered...

...but what about the ones that couldn't?

Here was this child's toy that could have very well been opened on Christmas morning by a little boy that dreamed of a world so far away from the cold reality of Depression Era New England. Turning it over, she wondered if it was loved. Did the dent come from taking its owner to adventures he only heard about in old radio shows and movie serials? Was the rust from playing in the rain or getting too close to the bathtub?

...or was it locked in its box somewhere hidden away, until it was unearthed in a side street antique shop by a boy from Kewaunee who had his own set of adventures and realities to deal with.

If there was any doubt in her mind it was gone now. The little tin man with a dent where his heart would be and a detached look on his face was going to be going to a new home as soon as she could get it shipped.

"It's perfect. What'll you take for it...?"

* * *

Jordan let herself into her apartment with a small self- satisfied smile on her face. If she ever left her job as a medical examiner she felt she could find a second career as agent for Sotheby's. The dealer had listed the Roby Woody wanted at $1200. Jordan was able to talk him down to an even grand and include shipping. 

The price was still staggering for her budget. The payment plan she signed had a hefty finance charge added if she used the full 90 days to pay it off. If she could come up with the cash in the next 72 hours... She'd have to figure out something later. Maybe about the same time she figured out how to admit—if she ever had to – she was the one that anonymously had it shipped to Woody's address.

If the shop keeper was curious why she didn't include a card when it was offered he didn't show it. Jordan didn't know if Woody would accept a gift from her. She had an idea of what his reaction would be. After all, she'd be the first to argue it was too much if the roles were reversed. She had a history of it.

Jordan tossed her keys on the counter and tossed a TV dinner of mystery meat into the microwave trying to ignore how quiet her apartment was. She had to remind herself to be careful what she wished for.

It took Woody breaking her heart to remind her she had one...and how very lonely it was. Jordan couldn't help but think about the path her life has taken over the last year.

It was easy to fall under JD's spell. He was handsome, intelligent, he believed in the same things she did and she had to admit he filled a physical void she had been denying herself for far too long. Most of all, he never pressured her to open her heart the same way Woody had. On paper he was perfect. Maybe that's what went wrong. He made a token attempt to ask her to come with him when he accepted a job offer away from Boston. She suspected deep down he knew she'd turn him down.

He _knew_ he'd never have her totally.

Jordan had to admit she shed a tear or two in the days and weeks that followed ...not because he was leaving, but because she didn't feel anything one way or the other. He left her with a cold bed and the same problems. Only now they were peppered with regret. After self analyzing herself to death she came to one conclusion...Woody still had her heart and that elusive little thing wasn't in any hurry to come back to her.

She carried her dinner over to her dining room table and sat down with what was left of her Christmas card list and turned on the TV for background noise. They were playing an old made-for-TV Christmas movie on the local channel. 'Tis the season. She left it on.

It wasn't like she had a long card list by any shape or form...a friend here, an acquaintance there, most of whom she only corresponded with once a year. Christmas card people. That's what her father used to call them. People who you don't think of 364 days of the year but feel guilty if you don't tell them you are at least alive every Christmas. Dad could be a sentimental SOB every once in awhile.

Jordan just had a habit of procrastinating to the last minute to fill them out. It was almost tradition to get a holiday card from Jordan around Valentine's Day. They were going to be early this year. _Christmas was a time for giving and New Year's a time for fresh starts_ ...and it's not like she had anything else to occupy her free time.

She was a dozen or so names into her address book she came across Woody's name. She twisted the pen in her hand and debated on what to say in the card. "_Merry_" just didn't seem like the right word. Neither did the words _"Happy New Year's". _She toyed with just saying "_Ho,ho,ho_" but ended up simply writing "_I miss you_." She set the card aside.

With a sigh, she flipped to the next page in her address book. The first name to jump out at her and brought a warm smile to her face...

_Louis Jeffries _

Jordan set her pen aside and looked at the original she had hanging on the wall. Louis gave it to her on a scalding summer day over a year ago. He personally brought it over, which was a big step for him. He called it a thank you for all Jordan had done for him. The sunny colors were not his usual dark palette. Louis explained it was because he in a good place in his life. Of course his art would show it. Everyday he was able to trust more and more and because of that he was able to accept a new love in his life.

He told her that the dark, somber print Jordan treasured represented a time and place that either of them seemed to fit in any longer. They were changing, evolving, and chasing long-lived demons away. With some half-hearted protest on Jordan's part he took away the old and hung the new. An original Louis Jeffries. She joked saying she would end up becoming a collector. For the first few weeks she would spend hours just looking at it. Then she slowly stopped seeing herself in the splash of color. Her journey of moving ahead of her life's problems was running into more then its fair share of road blocks. By the time JD had entered her life it almost didn't feel right hanging there anymore.

She still loved it though, but not for the original meaning.

Out of the corner of her eye Jordan caught young overly mellow-dramatic Marie Osmond bravely having her hair cut off on her TV screen. She half forgot she had the TV on and decided to give up on her cards for the evening and curl up on her sofa to watch the last few scenes of the movie before calling it a night.

It didn't take long for Jordan to place the story. _Gift of the Magi._ A totally Hollywood version...but the theme was still there.

She could remember the first time she read the short-story of love and sacrifice. It was in high school English class and not her usual taste. She could remember thinking it was some kind of punishment laid out by the nuns for her own self-centered life. In spite of them it secretly became one of her favorites. Not because of the romance of the poor lovers and they forfeits they made for each other. She didn't believe that a love like that could exist. No, Jordan related to the irony of the whole situation. At fifteen, it only justified Jordan's ultimate outlook on how unfair life really was.

O. Henry's Della and Jim were young, poor and in love. A young Jordan couldn't help but think that Della could have done better for herself. She was pretty in an era when women could only bank on their looks or who their family was. Nobody cared if she could connect two thoughts together. Maybe she could have been an important man's wife. But no ...she fell in love with a man like the man her own mother fell in love with. A good man. A working man. A man that loved her for who she was and not just her pretty hair. Della and Jim's love for each other is so all consuming that they give up their most cherished worldly possession to prove it thus being compared to the selfless love of the Magi.

Through the years her attitude had changed about the story. Personal sacrifice for the happiness of another wasn't such foreign concept to her anymore...even though the happy ending of eating a simple pork chop dinner with the one she loved still seemed to elude her.

Jordan watched the last few minutes of the movie rolling her eyes at Marie's overacting and Timothy Bottom's Botox-like expressions but she had to admit there was some charm there. Enough to keep her wrapped up in the drama all the way to the final kiss.

Jordan snorted as the magic of the moment was broke by a split-screen of credits and a cutesy Christmas ad for a credit card company.

"Oh Jimbo my boy, you were the one screwed." Jordan said turning the TV off with a flick of her wrist. "Della's hair will grow back. Your watch is gone forever. Too bad they didn't have instant credit back in the day..."

Just saying it out loud Jordan remembered the hefty payment agreement looming ominously in her purse. She didn't regret her purchase at all, even though it was going to stretch her budget tight. She needed to ask Garret for an advance or...

She looked at her Jefferies again.

She couldn't sell it. She didn't even know how to go about even trying to. No. It was a gift...a very special gift from a special friend.

That didn't stop her from picking up the phone.

"Louis? Hi, it's Jordan...I have a favor to ask you...I need some advice."


	3. Bing Crosby and UPS

**Chapter Three**

**Bing Crosby and UPS**

"I'm dreaming of a White Christmas…." The sound of Bing Crosby's rich, mellow voice resonated from Woody's CD player. "Just like the ones I used to know…."

_Just like the ones I used to know…_Woody grimaced at the irony of the crooner's words. While Bing could be reassured that Woody was having a white Christmas in Boston, the Christmas's like the ones he used to know were eluding him.

_I guess it serves me right_….he thought as he decorated his pitiful, Charlie Brown-esque Christmas tree. He had bought it at an after Christmas yard sale two years ago. Jordan had laughed at him…but back then he had been the optimistic Farm Boy that was working hard on stealing her heart. He promised her that he would make it look good…that it would be a beautiful tree the next holiday season.

Jordan had laughed and called him Charlie Brown.

But he had shown her. He decorated it as best he could the next year…and while it wasn't something that would ever be featured on any White House Christmas card, the poor thing did look marginally better. She even admitted it and had bought him a policeman's ornament to hang on one of the branches…he gave it an honored place near the top of the tree….a place that it still owned.

This year all he had gotten from her was a Christmas card. He had nearly discarded it, but the "Miss you" on the bottom played with his heart strings. The card now resided on the nightstand by his bed. He re-read every night and silently told her that he missed her, too.

He wondered when and if he could ever tell her in person.

"I'm dreaming of a White Christmas…with every Christmas card I write…." Woody frowned at his CD player again. "May your days be were merry and bright….." His days were far short of merry….and much less than bright. They could be described primarily as _empty_. There were no presents to go under his tree this year. Most of his fellow officers were barely on speaking terms with him this year. He kept telling himself it had nothing to do with his attitude.

And Cal….as for Cal, he hadn't heard from his brother in nearly a year. Through communication in the family grapevine, he did know where Cal was at…working on a cattle farm somewhere out West, getting as far away from the temptations of women, gambling, and drugs as he could Woody was happy that his brother was making some positive changes in his life…but Cal hadn't contacted him at all. And Woody didn't know how to get in touch with him. He guessed that when he told Cal that he no longer had a brother, Cal took it to heart.

Just like Jordan had done when he kicked her out of his hospital room. Sure, they had worked together…civilly even. They had to. But once he had told her it was over between them and he didn't believe she really loved him, Jordan had shut herself off from him. She had tried, bless her heart, to reconnect, but after his fiasco with Riggs and she found out how badly he used her, she turned to another man. JD Pollack. Woody winced. He had seen them kissing…but Pollack had never tried to change Jordan. He let her be herself.

And then poof, one day, the tabloid reporter was gone. Woody had held his breath for weeks thinking that Jordan would eventually follow the reporter. He had sighed with relief when that didn't happen. But Jordan had never tried to reconnect with him. The most intimate conversation Woody had had with her was a week ago at the jewelry store.

So…because of himself…or in spite of himself … he was sitting in an empty, quiet apartment with a decorated Christmas tree that had no presents under it. His Christmas dinner was a Healthy Choice frozen turkey dinner and the festivities planned were simply to work on the twenty-fifth. He kept telling himself this was nice. A quiet Christmas was what he needed after everything he had been through. No pressures to attend parties with people he really didn't want to see or that wanted to see him. No after Christmas bills to pay for gifts that stretched an already overspent budget. No awkward family gatherings where well-meaning but nosey relatives kept asking him why he hadn't settled down yet and produced a gaggle of little Hoyts all his own. And was he still seeing that woman-doctor-ME person that had a boy's name.

_This is better_…he kept telling himself, trying not to think about last Christmas. There had been caroling…snowball fights….the party at the Pogue…mistletoe and Jordan. His heart tugged a bit.

"And may all your Christmases be white…." _Shut up, Bing. _Woody slammed his CD player off and complete silence engulfed his apartment. _Be careful what you wish for_ his conscious goaded him. Yeah, well….

A knock brought him out of his dark thoughts. He certainly wasn't expecting company on Christmas Eve. And even she wouldn't have the gall to come over now….Woody haltingly opened the door to be greeted by a familiar brown suit. It was the UPS guy. "Package for a Woody Hoyt?" the man asked.

"I'm Woody Hoyt."

"Good. If you would just sign here…." The man shoved a clipboard at him and Woody signed on the designated place. "Thanks. And Merry Christmas Mr. Hoyt." The man shoved a brown box in Woody's hands and was on his way.

"Merry Christmas….." Woody's voice trailed off as he stared at the package. Wonderingly he brought it into his small kitchen and looked it over carefully. It had no return address…but did bear a Boston postmark. So it wasn't from Cal or any of his assorted estranged Wisconsin relatives. And he couldn't think of anyone in Boston who still liked him enough to send him anything.

Still curious, he looked the package over again. No wires or strings or oily residue. It looked safe enough. He chuckled grimly at himself. While he could see someone trying to hurt him….he could not see anyone wanting to send him presents. He must have gotten unbearable to live with over the past several months.

Flicking out his pocket knife, he carefully opened the box and pulled back the tissue. Inside was another box, beautifully wrapped. For a moment he debated if he should put it under the tree to have something to open up on Christmas morning.

But his inner child won out. He needed to see what was in that package now.

The adult in him at least didn't make hash out of the wrapping. He gingerly pulled off the bow and the wrapping….and lost his breath.

The roby. The one he had wanted so long but feared he would never have. With gentle hands he lifted it from the box. The lightly scratched surface….the dent over the heart….the slight dusting of rust on the soles….this was the 19876FT Roby from the antique shop he had been lusting after for so long.

But who sent it?

In vain, he searched the boxes for a card. There was none. He looked at his watch. The antique store was long closed by now. In desperation, he picked up his phone and called the UPS office. He was disappointed to find out that all they could tell him was that they did pick up the package from the antique gallery downtown, but had no idea who sent him the robot. They did admonish him to have a nice holiday season and to enjoy his gift.

_Who could have sent it_? He wondered as he absent-mindedly turned Bing back on to have another voice fill his quiet apartment. "You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen…."

_Yeah, I know all of those Bing…I just don't know who sent me this gift…a gift I can't possibly accept because it cost too much…_Woody racked his brain for who could have possibly given him this treasure….he had told so many people about his obsession for these robots….and how much he wanted this particular 19876FT Roby that it could very well be nearly anyone who had a soft spot in their hearts and wallets for a detective that went around acting like an ass.

"But do your recall….the most famous reindeer of all….."

He recalled Rudolph just fine, thank you….but try as he might, he had no idea who would send him this gift. "I guess it's just you and me for the holidays, little fella," he finally admitted to the short tin man in front of him. Woody was sure that if anyone overheard him, those words sounded incredibly lonely and pitiful.

But not to him. Not from where he was sitting. Someone still thought enough of him, despite his terrible temper and horrible attitude of late, to send him such an elaborate Christmas gift. He couldn't remember such a token of affection since his parents played Santa Claus for him and Cal a lifetime ago.

"Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer….you'll go down in history…."

Woody grimaced again. He had nearly forgotten about Bing, but at least he could identify with the outcast deer on some level. This would go down in Woody's history as one of the most lonely and mysterious Christmases ever.


	4. A Dent Where His Heart Should Be

**Chapter Four**

**A Dent Where His Heart Should Be**

It was bitterly cold and very clear out when Jordan took her trash out to the dumpster.

"So much for a white Christmas," she mused to herself when she looked at the dingy, black remnant piles of snow that were neatly plowed to the side of the building. The buzz she had from Nigel's 80-proof eggnog was starting to wear off leaving her with the beginnings of a slight hangover. She was glad he took a cab instead of his bike. He left a few minutes before patting her on the head, telling her to be a good girl and go to Mass...while he went home and passed out.

At this point, Jordan doubted she'd make it to Mass. It wasn't like her father was there to drag her. Jordan thumbed the cell phone in her coat pocket willing it to ring.

Nothing.

Whatever Max was doing for Christmas Eve it didn't include calling home. And since she didn't have a number to reach him...

Nigel told her to forget it. He told her that they were fine. Who needed others? They'd make a nice simple Christmas celebration of their own. Big Macs, stout eggnog, and Elvis singing "Blue Christmas." Jordan tried. For awhile she actually enjoyed herself. Who couldn't with Nigel as a cruise director?

Half way through Nigel's second feature of the day, "It's a Wonderful Life", he leaned a half-drunk head on her shoulder and asked her about her Jeffries painting. More to the fact...its missing status. Jordan brushed his inquiry off by saying that she was redecorating and sold it. Nigel believed her about as much as George Bailey believed in unassuming angels.

"Jordan darling, I can tell when you are not being honest with me. You sold it. Why?"

"Do I need a reason? I was tired of it. I wanted a change..."

"So you have a blank wall with a big ass hole in it from the anchor."

"I'm keeping my options open," she laughed, sitting upright and pouring herself a nogless version of eggnog.

"It's the Aussie isn't it? He really did a number on you."

The whiskey was smooth on her throat. "No. JD and I parted amicably. I hope he's happy. I'm just glad it's not with me."

"That's a relief. I'd hate to see your heart broke again. It still doesn't explain why you sold a valuable painting that just happened to be signed to you personally."

"Okay, the Enya concert tickets I bought you for Christmas set me back further then I thought they would," she said sarcastically.

As she assumed, Nigel wasn't insulted at all. Her mockery just served to make him more curious. "Ah, then maybe it's a little down under detox in the form of a first class ticket to Vegas and week of room service in a suite at the Montecito with Danny McCoy?"

"No," she laughed.

Looking back, Jordan half wished she had been honest with him. Nigel of all people would understand. Or would he? She didn't understand the rollercoaster she was on herself. Wrapping her arms around herself to try and keep out the cold, Jordan rushed through in the backdoor to her building. Out of the corner of her eye she saw someone leave out the front door and disregarded it as someone heading out for some kind of Christmas celebration. Better them then her. It was too cold to do a darn thing but pull the covers up tight and sleep until Spring.

She was in a hurry to get back inside her apartment and all but tripped over the oblong envelope just inside the door. She assumed it was just a last minute gesture of good cheer from one of her faceless neighbors. She was about to toss it on the counter when she recognized the neat lettering on the cover ...JORDAN. It was from Woody. He used the same block letters he writes his police reports with. He must have slipped it under her door. Self-consciously she looked at the walls of her empty apartment, mentally kicking herself for missing him while she was taking the trash out.

Slipping her fingernail under the flap she opened the envelope and took out the simple card and smiled. She recognized the print from a set of cards being sold by the local children's hospital as part of their annual fundraiser. Leave it to Woody to shell out the extra bucks for a box of cards for a good cause.

The print depicted a drawing that was probably sketched by a prepubescent girl if the hearts and rainbows in the margins were an indicator. The central figures were of a woman with short hair and a man holding a hair comb and a comical look on his face.

'_The Gift of the Magi',_ Jordan smiled. She opened it expecting only to find Woody's strong handed signature. Maybe it was just the leftover alcohol in her system but the short note she found instead made her eyebrows knot together. It wasn't as much what it said...but the hesitancy in the penmanship. It was like he started to write something else and end up just penning a standard blurb on wishing her a Merry Christmas and safe New Year.

Jordan looked at the empty spot on her wall and wondered if he received the package yet. It was late. Of course he had it. Her fingers itched to dial the number -- telling herself she was just going to wish him a Merry Christmas. She debated with herself for the next half hour. When she finally found not only the nerve, and rehearsed her impromptu greeting to a T, she realized it was too late. Undoubtedly, her devout friend would be tucked in his pew at Midnight Mass by now.

Rubbing her temples, Jordan opted to call it a night. Before she turned off the lights she unearthed her treasure box from underneath her bed and tucked Woody's card inside. She laughed at her sentimentally when she had at least one card on her coffee table which was more elaborate and the note inside more thoughtful and poetic.

JD's

Of all the cards she should keep his...but she knew it would go in the trash with the other recyclables. Ending up tossed together with the daily junk mail and the Sunday newspaper.

She climbed into bed telling herself she could weed Woody's card back out and toss it like the rest. She fell asleep knowing it was safely tucked away and wondering just what it really was he was going to write.

* * *

The next few days flew past in a chaotic blur. By New Year's Eve Jordan sent out a silent wish that it would be over soon. The holidays are always tough at the morgue. Statistically speaking, the holidays traditionally held the record for the number of suicides that were recorded for the year. Add in the homeless that for some reason refused shelter, the old and ill whose bodies couldn't handle another cold spell, and the constant challenge of home heating with outdated, and often lethal avenues...by New Year's the staff both emotionally and physically exhausted.

It was mid-afternoon when Jordan answered the call. An apparent suicide just off the BC campus. The third from this section of town this week alone. She was a little surprised when she saw Woody standing just inside the taped perimeter. She hadn't seen him since that day at the jewelry store, even though his Christmas card was still under her bed.

"I would have thought you would have worked Thanksgiving, Christmas and Fourth of July just to get today off..." Jordan said.

Woody looked up from him notebook like he had just noticed her when in fact he knew the second she drove up. The El Camino had a knock that always sounded worse when it was cold. And it was cold today.

"Excuse me...?" Woody asked holding the police tape up for her.

Jordan walked passed him and into the scene. "Come on...its college-football-nirvana-time-of-the-year. Don't tell me your beloved Badgers are not playing some game of the century today."

"Oh," his lips parted in what he hoped was a congenial smile as what she was saying dawned on him. "Actually, they play tomorrow. Male, age 19, his name is Michael Barrister. His roommate said he's been having some problems at home and decided to stick around for the holidays and spend a little quality time with his girlfriend only to get a 'Dear Mike' email the day before Christmas."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. There is an empty bottle of sleeping pills over there on the dresser and an equally empty bottle of Wild Turkey in bed next to him. Oh, and there was a suicide note in the form of a DVD in his computer.

"Huh?" Jordan scanned the room with a jaundice eye. She had seen her share of suicides in her career. They were never pretty. Especially when a young life was snuffed out like the flame of a holiday candle on the day after New Year's.

"A high tech suicide note...complete with musical accompaniment." Woody held up an evidence bag containing a DVD-R complete with carefully Sharpie inscribed block letters that read: _Mike: My So-Called Life. _"He was no John Ford, but it's pretty detailed. _'Woe-as-me, my life sucks and nobody understands... so fuck the world and let me off. The End.'_ " Woody pointed to camcorder and tripod located near a disorderly desk. "He apparently took the last week to plan and orchestrate..."

Jordan grimaced at the cluttered room. Everything from story boards to endless empty Starbuck cups litter the area speaking to even the untrained eye that this young man was very troubled and reaching out for help that never came.

"...damn."

Seemingly dispassionately, Woody closed his notebook and carefully tucked it in his coat pocket. Flatly, he looked at her and said, "Unless you can tell me anything different I'm going to go ahead and call this a suicide."

"Just like that?" she demanded.

"Yes."

Jordan's voice became colder with every word. "Don't you think this is wrong? A kid is dead because he thought he was alone in the world. Now you are in a hurry to sign your report and be done with it..."

"I can't change what has happened Jordan. If I could I would. Trust me; I know what is like to be so messed up you don't know what end is up...but I've never considered taking my own life because of it." With that, he turned heel and yelled out to one of the CSU officers in the front yard leaving Jordan and the body alone.

Jordan watched the stiff shouldered detective walk out into the cold. He reminded her of the Roby. When he did smile it rarely met his eyes. Since that ugly day in the hospital Woody was left with an emotionless expression and a dull, scratched, cold exterior over a hollow center. Jordan didn't have to look. She knew there was a dent. She saw his medical records. She knew where the physical scars were. It was the emotional ones that left her confused. With a sigh, she went about her job.

* * *

Woody answered his cell on the first ring. "This is Hoyt."

"He had a BAL of 1.2 and enough half-digested Phenobarbitals in his system to take down a horse. You can file your report," Jordan said coolly.

Woody could almost picture her pulling off her latex gloves and tossing them in the trash with a little more force then necessary. He shifted the phone to his other ear. "I'm sorry, Jordan."

"What the hell do you have to be sorry for? You didn't need to be a detective to call it. You were right. Michael Barrister, former Boston College student will spend New Year's Eve in the crypt with 49 other poor souls, a victim of his own demons..."

"He was a freshman, studying music theory...and he grew up just south of Farmington...the second son of a plumper and day care provider. He wanted to go to Hollywood and be one of those guys that composed soundtracks for motion pictures."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

His voice was low and strained. "I just wanted you to know that I think of him as a person, Jordan. Everybody deserves to be remembered for who they were and not just how they left this world."

Jordan ire faded away like the last of the Christmas lights the day after The Epiphany. She realized it wasn't just the morgue that had to face the dark backlash of the season. The police department shared the load.

"I'm sorry Woody. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's been a long week. Hey, I'm about finished here and I'm starving. What do you say about meeting at Mike's...maybe grab a sandwich or something? I don't think I can face a Dick Clark-less New Year's Eve on an empty stomach."

Her laugh, as weak as it was, was contagious. Woody found himself smiling. He clicked the print icon and sent his final report on the suicide to the community bull pen printer thus finishing his shift. He couldn't see any harm in having a little after-the-case-bite-to-eat with Jordan. It'd been awhile.

"Sure, it sounds good. I'll meet you there..."

* * *

Mike's was deserted except for a pair of uniformed officers sitting at the counter. Woody acknowledged them before he led Jordan to a booth towards the back of the room. As they sat down Jordan noticed the Christmas decorations that hung in the windows showed the signs of the past few weeks' wear and tear. She couldn't help but compare them to the man sitting across from her. At first glace he looked like he always did. Tall, straight...and still as handsome as sin. Yet, there were lines in his face that were never there before. A leanness that verged on gaunt. Once again her mind's eye went to that robot.

Woody could feel her studying him over his menu. He self-consciously ran his tongue over his teeth before he smiled. A beautiful genuine smile. The kind that made her forget about the toy and remember she was sitting across from the man that held her heart. "You haven't even opened the menu. You know what you want?"

Jordan felt her stomach flip like a fish on dry land at the innocent question. After a pregnant pause during which the entire the 1812 Overture, complete with cannons, could have been played, Jordan returned his smile and groped for her menu. "A burger sounds good...yeah, a burger...with onion rings...and make that fries...and a piece of pie. I'm starving."

"Are you alright?" he asked measuring her slowly.

"Hungry...Miss!"

Jordan held up her hand for the waitress. Soon the table was groaning with enough food to feed four people. Amused, Woody dug in. It always amazed him how much food Jordan could put away...when she was eating. Having only discovered the problem of a lagging appetite in the last few weeks Woody found himself taking a big bite out of the greasy hamburger and sighing in gastric-contentment.

Between bites he asked a question that had been dogging him for a week. "Did you get away for Christmas this year?"

"Ah, no. Why?" she asked wiping her mouth with her napkin.

"I stopped by Christmas Eve and you didn't answer the door. When I saw you were off both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day I figured you...left town for a few days..." He couldn't come out and ask her if she visited Pollock for the holiday even though when she didn't answer her door he strongly suspected it.

"No," she grinned in her coffee. "I spent Christmas Eve with Nigel getting drunk, watching movies, eating fast food and waiting for a phone call from Dad that never came. Pathetic huh?"

"I'm sorry Jordan." he said automatically. Hearing she only had Nigel to spend her holiday with should make him more sympathetic. When he saw Nigel at work Christmas Day, nursing a little hangover and surfing art auction sites on his PC, the lanky Brit said nothing about Jordan except that she was off. While he was mad at Max for not finding the time to call his daughter for Christmas, Woody was secretly happy Jordan didn't include JD Pollack in her holiday celebrations.

"Don't be." Jordan said with a wave of her hand. "I cleaned my apartment from top to bottom." What she didn't tell him was that in his card JD did ask her to visit. She turned him down...and without a shred of regret. Turning back to the subject at hand her lips thinned out. "Max's got his own life, Wood. I've faced that fact a long time ago." Brightly she added, " I'm sorry I missed you when you stopped by. I got your card. It was nice. Thank you."

Woody dug into his fries with false gusto. What she didn't know was when we stopped by he also had a pair of small brightly wrapped packages in his coat pocket. He hemmed and hawed about actually giving them to her. The same way he hemmed and hawed buying them. When she didn't answer the door he assumed she was gone. He quickly signed the card and slipped it under her door and left without a second glance. He abandoned those little boxes in the glove compartment of his car thinking that someday they'd join the other forsaken gift deep in his dresser drawer. One thought echoed through his mind...

...She didn't go.

"You're welcome," he mumbled.

Jordan asked, "So how about you? Did you do anything special this year?"

"I...I had a TV dinner and worked." He also spent part of his Christmas morning hitting up Nigel to help him track down his secret Santa. Always game for a mystery, it was a shock when Nigel said he was too busy. When Woody asked him if he was involved Nigel snorted and said he barking up the wrong tree. He had better things to spend his money on then buying elaborate gifts for hopelessly straight men with more issues then the Boston Globe and went back to his search of recent Louis Jeffries sales.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one...You know? We deserve better," she laughed mirthlessly. Jordan could tell the easy camaraderie of the moment was slipping away. Grasping blindly at anything to change the course of this depressing conversation Jordan asked if Santa was good to him this year.

Woody's eyes lit up. "Actually he was. I got a package delivered Christmas Eve with no note, nothing. It was a collector's item I'd been eyeing for awhile."

"...Oh..." Jordan said trying to sound surprised when she realized her mistake.

"It was that Roby I told you about. I have no idea who could have sent it. I tried to get Nigel's help to track down the sender but he's being very Nigel about it..."

Jordan shifted uncomfortably in her seat looking for an escape. She knew she was taking the coward's way out. She still hadn't convinced herself that sending that Roby was the wisest thing she's even done. "I'm...I'm sure it'll all work out." She looked at he watched and announced, "It's getting really late. I really don't like being out on the streets with the drunks..."

Jordan opened her purse to take some money out when Woody stopped her. "No problem, I got it. Consider it your Christmas present..." he said lightly. Jordan simply nodded and stood up. She was half way out the door when she turned around. Two steps later she leaned down and kissed his cheek.

"Happy New Year's Woody..." she whispered.

Before he could say anything she was gone.

Woody sat in the booth for what seemed like a lifetime still feeling the texture of her lips on his face. He should forget it. Forget her. Yet, no matter how much he tried...he never could.

He looked at the congealing grease on his plate when the waitress approached and asked if he was done.

"I could use some more coffee," he answered cryptically. Mike's looked like a good place to ring in the New Year's as any. The waitress said she'd return with the pot once she took away some of the dishes.

She was stacking the dishes together when she noticed a pair of gloves in the seat Jordan had vacated. "Mister," she said picking them up. "I think your friend left her gloves...it's going to be pretty cold tomorrow..."

Woody took them out of the waitress's hand and reached for his wallet. "You know what. I changed my mind about that coffee."

The waitress was right. It was cold out. Knowing Jordan he doubted she had more then one pair. Then he remembered she had at least fifteen coats...and probably fifteen pairs of gloves to match.

"Fuck it," he whispered and tucked the gloves in the breast pocket of his overcoat.

Before he could second guess himself Woody left the diner and pulled out into the late holiday traffic. Vaguely, he thought it was funny that he hadn't been there since she and Pollack were still playing house and a crazy decided to make their lives miserable. Now he was going there twice in the span of a week. Pollock was gone and the only crazy Woody could think of was he himself...for driving across town, with all of Jordan's drunks, to return a pair of brown leather gloves.

"More like masochistic..." he mumbled to himself turning up the radio.


	5. It All Makes Sense

**Chapter Five**

**It All Makes Sense**

Woody stood outside her big, red apartment door a full two minutes before he finally raised his hand to knock. For the life of him, he still couldn't tell himself _exactly_ why he was here. Was it because, as the waitress at Mike's had said, the temperatures were going to dip into the freezing range tomorrow and he hated the thought of her hands being raw and red from the cold?

Or was it because, deep down inside, he was really looking for any excuse to see her again? As much as he hated to admit it, the dinner at Mike's had whetted his appetite to see her without a dead body between them. Well, this was a new way to start the New Year's. Holding his breath and the hope in his heart, he raised his hand to knock….

* * *

Jordan had rushed home after the impromptu dinner with Woody….she had to get out of that diner before she did or said anything to let him know that she was his benefactor…that she had bought the robot. For if Woody knew that, she feared the joy he had over the gift would be gone. _I simply can't ever let him know…_she thought as she stood under a hot shower, hoping the spray would ease her tension and make her relaxed enough to sleep without a pair of blue eyes haunting her dreams after she stayed awake along enough to at least see in the New Year. 

She hadn't lied to him on her Christmas card. She did miss him. More than she even knew until tonight when they were sitting across from each other talking about anything but work. She sighed as she began to comb out the snarls in her wet hair. She thought that time might ease the ache in her heart…time and two other men – Danny McCoy and JD Pollack. But neither did. Danny and JD just proved that Woody had taken her heart and left a void that only he could fill. And all time had proved to her was that reconnecting with her Farm Boy wasn't going to happen. He had moved on.

But tonight…tonight he seemed different. At least by the end of their conversation. She figured that he would be repulsed by her impulsive kiss on his cheek, but he didn't appear to be…at least as far as she could tell. To be honest, she was afraid to turn back around and look. That had been nearly an hour ago and she could still feel the texture of his beard beneath her lips and the taste of his skin on her tongue. Mentally, she shook herself. Such thought were better left unthought. It just made her life more difficult and would make the next time she had to work with him even more heartbreaking.

Satisfied with letting her hair dry by itself so it would curl around her shoulders, Jordan reached for her flannel duckie pajamas. It was cold and those would keep her warm through the long, frigid Boston night….but the woman inside her called out for something more…Discarding the pink bubbles and yellow ducks, she reached for a blue nightie…something she had bought at Victoria's Secret right before JD had left…but had never had a chance to wear it for the reporter. She might be alone, but there was no reason she had to feel like a reject at a Sadie Hawkins Dance. At least the lingerie would make her feel marginally desirable, even if she had no earthly idea who would want her now.

Wrapping the matching robe around her, she headed for the kitchen. If she was lucky, she'd find a cold long-neck in the 'fridge and she and whoever was filling in for Dick Clark would ring in the New Year together…but a knock at her door interrupted her mission. _Who on earth … at this hour…it's gotta be Nigel… well, at least I'm safe in the lingerie…_She opened the door.

"Woody…"

"Ummm….." his darted everywhere but on her. He sort of imagined Jordan might be ready for bed, but anytime he had seen her like that, she had sported a tank top and girl boxers…only marginally modest at times. But this….swallowing hard and praying his voice wouldn't crack like a prepubescent male, he went on. "You…you….left your gloves at Mike's. The waitress found them. It's supposed to be really cold tomorrow…." He handed the gloves to her.

"You came all the way over here to give me my gloves? Thanks…so much. They're my only pair…"

_So much for my 'fifteen-coats-means-fifteen-pairs-of-gloves_ _theory'. Evidently Jordan's fetish for outerwear doesn't include gloves or mittens… _"You're…you're welcome." He said, finally meeting her eyes and trying to make his stay there. "Anyway…..well…good…good night, Jordan." He felt about as awkward as he did the night they worked on the Sickboy 23 case together.

"Wait…Woody…don't go. No one should be by themselves when the New Year comes in. Stay….it's only about an hour or so away…I have a case of long-necks in the 'fridge…"

"I really shouldn't…"

She tried to keep the hurt look out of her eyes. She really did. She tried to blink it away before he saw it. "I'd love to have you stay, but I understand…."

_Oh fuck…I'm fucked…between her eyes and that outfit…_ "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"No…" The big, red door swung open and the next thing Woody knew he was back inside her apartment. "I'll get the beer," she called out over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen. "Make yourself at home…"

Woody did, going into her small living area, trying to casually glance over where the bloody carnage had littered her bed a few weeks earlier. She had changed her coverlet...and rearranged several items since the Aussie had headed out. As a matter of fact, the pristine arrangement of her bed made Woody believe Jordan couldn't bring herself to sleep in it and had probably been bunking on the couch. Whether this was because of the shooting or because she now slept alone, Woody wasn't sure.

But there was something else wrong…something he couldn't put his finger on….until he sat down on the couch and looked across the room….

Her original Louis Jefferies was gone. Woody had no love lost for the strange introvert that seemed to semi-worship Jordan for the changes she brought in the artist's life, but he knew Jordan loved that painting. So why… "Hey Jordan….where's the Jefferies print?" he asked.

_Oh shit. God, I can't be busted right now. He'd never accept the Roby and would hate me for the rest of my life_.

"It didn't get stolen did it? I mean there was that string of burglaries near here a few months ago…" Woody knitted his brows together. That was before the psycho broke into her apartment and wanted Jordan to kill her. He was at the crime scene…the painting was here then, wasn't it? He couldn't remember.

_Buy time, buy time…_Jordan frantically thought to herself. She grabbed the TV remote off the kitchen island and punched a button. "Ah…there it is….Times Square…look at all those people Woody…it's nearly midnight…"

"Should old acquaintance be forgot…" the sound of thousands semi-drunk singing people drew Woody's attention to the television, the Jefferies print momentarily forgotten as Jordan handed him a beer and sat down, her perfume wreathing around him, snagging him, and reeling him in.

"How much time do we have, Jordan?" he suddenly asked looking into the eyes of the woman who sat beside him on the couch. To some it may have been a rhetorical question. How long was it until New Year's?

To Woody, it was much more. And from the look in Jordan's eyes, he knew that she was aware of exactly what he meant. How much time do we have before we really do call this whole dance off…that it is truly too late….that the best we can hope for is only friendship?

And she felt it, too. It echoed in her face. "Just a few…seconds."

"Ten, nine, eight, seven…" the announcer droned.

"Six, five, four…" Woody picked up the count and gently cupped her face with his hands. "Three, two…one…" He lightly brushed his lips to hers. "Happy New Year's, Jordan."

* * *

Her lips had been softer than he ever remembered. Soft…tentative….but she didn't push him away. It had been all he could do to stop it at a New Year's kiss. As kisses go, it was chaste. A brush and then a brief cling to her lips. 

It had rocked his world. He fought the demons that urged him to push it a little further…to stay a little longer. Instead, he had whispered good night and left her tiny apartment to go to his lonely studio one. He let himself into his dark home, and made his way to his bedroom without flipping on the lights. It wasn't until he had stripped off his shirt and was getting ready to drop his pants and crawl into bed that the roby caught his eye…He had put it on the nightstand with her Christmas card. He wasn't sure why he connected the two together…maybe it was because he received both the same day. Maybe because it did prove to him that at least two people out there in the cold world still cared about him – even if he had no idea who one of them was.

He picked the little guy up with gentle hands. Woody had promised himself that he would put the antique back into its box and display it properly, but somehow looking at it and her card helped him sleep without dreaming…of course after tonight, even though as brief as that kiss was, he had a feeling his dreams would return to what they were a year or more ago….him…her…her…

Her Louis Jefferies print. She never did tell him what happened to it. Carefully setting the robot back down on his nightstand, Woody turned out the light and lay back in the bed with his hands behind his head. He would check with robbery tomorrow and see if it had been reported missing. And if it had been found. Sometimes it took those guys a while to return stolen goods to the rightful owners.

* * *

Woody frowned at the report. The day after New Year's he had gone back into the precinct and asked robbery if Jordan had reported a Lewis Jefferies print stolen from her Pearle Street apartment. The answer had been negative. Jordan hadn't reported anything stolen other than her mother's locket from that robbery nearly two years prior. 

It didn't make a whole lot of sense. Woody had them fax over to him a report of all the robberies in the past six months that took place within three blocks of her apartment. The list wasn't long and her name wasn't on it.

For some reason, that bothered him. Like most good detectives, once something had become a burr under their saddle, it was hard for them to let the hunch go unless it could be disproved.

And for Woody, his burr was that painting and Jordan's avoidance of the issue. She loved that painting…why wasn't it hanging in its usual spot? And it wasn't a small one, either. Unlike the numbered print she had, Louis had gifted her with a huge painting…wallpaper sized…she couldn't have had it anywhere else in her apartment or he would have seen it. Would Louis have borrowed it back for a gallery showing?

Woody tried to push the thoughts about the painting to the back of his mind as his post-New Year's assignments piled their way onto his desk. Three more homicides…but the painting refused to fade away. Finally, grabbing his coat, he took lunch…and went to find the only person that would really know what happened to that painting besides Jordan.

Nigel.

And if Woody remembered correctly, Nigel had been looking up recent sales of Louis Jefferies paintings on the internet when Woody had harassed him about helping him find out who sent him the roby.

He found the criminalist with his feet propped up on the desk, his head buried in a set of tox reports. "Nigel…"

The tall man held out his hand. "Just put the form here and I'll get to it as soon I can, Woody." He never took his eyes off the reports in front of him.

"It's not that…I need your help on something….personal, Nige."

The tone in Woody's voice perked Nigel's interest. "Perrrrsssssoooonnnnalllll?" He dragged out the syllables. "Just how pppppperrrrrssssoooonnallll do you want to get, Woodrow? I didn't know you swung both ways…."

Woody felt the heat rise to his ears. "Not like that…no…not me…Not that there's anything wrong…" The look in Nigel's eyes made him uncomfortable to the point he was nearly stuttering again. Clearing his throat, Woody regained control. "I noticed the other day…Christmas Day….when I was in here trying to get you to help me find who sent me the Roby that you were looking up Louis Jefferies sales…did you have any luck?"

Nigel quirked an eyebrow at him. "Why?"

"Because…because…" Sweat began to pop out on Woody's brow when he realized that Jordan may not appreciate his concern over the sale of her personal property. "Because I was over at Jordan's the other night and noticed that her Jefferies painting was gone…"

"I noticed that when I was over there at Christmas…"

"So….."

"Yes." Nigel suddenly dropped his feet to the floor and sat up. "Yes….Jordan did sell the painting…but I can't find out who bought it and I don't know why she sold it."

"That doesn't make sense…."

"She told me she was redecorating and the painting no longer belonged in her life…."

"Still….she loved that painting…."

"I know….the whole thing strikes me as funny…"

Woody nodded. "Thanks…I'm guess I'm just glad to know it's not stolen."

"Not a problem, Woodrow. I'm glad to help you with pppppperrrrssssooonnnalllll things anytime…"

* * *

_So now I have two mysteries on my hands…._ Woody thought as he climbed back into bed that night. He was still trying to figure out who had sent him the Roby…he needed to thank that person and make sure it was a square deal. If it had hurt that person too much financially, he would return the robot and make sure the gallery owner refunded the money in full. 

He had called Mr. Sinclair that day…assuming that he was now open after the holidays. To Woody's surprise, Mr. Sinclair's daughter, Eva answered the phone. She said her dad had fallen on a patch of ice outside of his house the day after Christmas and was now laid up in the hospital with a broken hip. She was running the store and trying to make heads and tails out of orders, finance agreements, and inventory, bemoaning the fact her father had never seen the need to go computerized with any of it. She had no idea who paid for or had the antique robot sent to Woody. But when and if she could find out, she'd let him know.

Woody turned and looked at the items on the nightstand. If he had to name his two most treasured items it the world, it would be the dented little tin man and the Christmas card from Jordan. He ran a light hand over the robot and then touched the card from her.

And suddenly it all made sense.

Jordan had sold her painting to buy him the robot.


	6. Hypocrites and Frostbite

**Chapter 6**

**Hypocrites and Frostbite**

Jordan let herself in her apartment after a long day. The post New Year's work load was always tedious. Not as much from the types of cases but the after holiday lull as the city bunkered down for a long cold winter. With a weary sigh she set her keys and gloves on the counter.

Almost as an after thought, she picked the gloves back up and touched the warm cuff to her lips. Funny, how everything seem to remind of that simple kiss.

Even after two days her jaded heart couldn't brush it off as just a silly tradition. New Year's kisses. That's all they are...tradition. Something any sane person should file away in their memory as a sweet gesture...not to dwell over like a naive school girl.

Jordan snorted tossing her gloves back on the counter letting them fall where they lay. She was never naive...even when she was a kid. She was savvy enough to know when a kiss was just that...a kiss. After all, Woody barely let the New Year's Eve Ball touch the roof of One Times Square in New York before he beat his feet out her door.

Maybe it was too late. There was too much history between them to ever make what they had anything other than the professional friendship they'd stumbled into. She was his ex-almost-something and the sooner she accepted the fact...the better she'd be.

Like she had done far too often since that afternoon in front of the jewelry store Jordan brushed off her train of thought and tried to reprioritize her evening's priorities.

She flipped the power on her stereo and popped in her wind down set of CDs "Shower, food, and sleep and not necessarily in that order..."

Piece by piece Jordan stripped her clothes off leaving a trail into the bathroom. The one advantage of not expecting any unexpected late night visitors was the fact that she could do just about anything she damn well pleased. With a smirk she wondered if she had any fresh batteries...

* * *

Meanwhile, Woody was pacing his own apartment. He wasn't worried about visitors expected or not. He was more concerned about unexpected gifts.

"Damn it..."

There wasn't any question in his mind that he had to return the Roby. He'd make sure of it the second the shop opened in the morning.

"Damn it..."

Why? For three years straight Jordan gave him a bottle of Glenfiddich somewhere around Martin Luther King's Day...two of which were still gathering dust in the cupboard above his refrigerator. Why this? Why now? In his mind there could only be one answer.

Pity.

"Damn..._it._..."

Her painting. He had to get it back. Some how. Some way. Woody made a mental note to contact Jefferies the second he left the antique store.

The more he paced the more upset he got. Then, before he could second guess himself, Woody packed the little tin man back in his box and tucked it back in the shipping box.. Armed with the evidence, he stormed out of his apartment to tell Jordan what she could do with her pity.

* * *

Jordan barely had a chance to step under the hot blast of her shower's restorative spray when she heard someone pounding on her door. It was worse then the doorbell. Swearing under her breath, she turned off the water and grabbed a towel.

"Alright, alright...I'm coming!"

By the time she had tied her robe around her waist she was sure her neighbors would have panicked at the non-stop pounding and called the police. They were still jumpy after the latest parade of emergency service personal through her door. She opened the big red door with more force then necessary.

"What!"

Woody took one look at her robe and barged past her. "I hope I'm not interrupting something..." he said sarcastically.

He didn't stop until he set the box down on her dining room table. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the trail of clothes that led into her bedroom and began to wonder if she was, in fact, alone. When nobody strolled out of the glass doors he had to admit he felt a tinge of disappointment. He was ready to hit something and in his mind's eye the Aussie's face still a good target.

"Nigel told me you were redecorating," he continued looking at the blank wall in front of him. "I think the minimalist look went out about a decade ago."

Jordan didn't need to know what was in the UPS box to know the jig was up. She pulled the lapels of her robe a little tighter around her neck wishing she had something substantial on. It would be hard to defend her self with a cool breeze floating up the thin silk's hem. Still, it didn't stop her from trying...

"I've never been one to keep up with trends..." she drawled in a tone that was as cold as the street Woody just left.

He turned around trying to force most of the bitterness from his voice. "I thank you Jordan...but the Roby is too much. If you don't want to deal with the hassle I...I'll return it in the morning and get your money back."

"Just like that. I thought it was something you wanted."

"I do...and I'll buy it back someday" he said with conviction. "...Just not at the price of your pity..."

Her smile was slow and almost feral. "So we're back to that again. I hate to break this to you, Hoyt, but you are about as pitiful as the 2004 New York Yankee starting line up."

The corners of his lips curled to match hers. "Nice analogy from a native Bostonian."

Jordan threw up her hands in defeat. "You're impossible..."

The wind was sucked out of Woody's sails and replaced with something stormier when he realized that Jordan didn't have much, if anything, under her thin robe. He focused his attention to toying with the edge of the box. "I'll call the shop first thing and arrange for them to give you a full refund. Let me know who, ah, bought the painting and I'll get back as soon as possible."

"Woody..."

She didn't get a chance to say anything else because he quickly cut her off. "Good night Jordan," he said softly.

Jordan didn't stand in his way as he let himself quietly out the door.

"Jackass..."

Next the shipping box she noticed a set of smaller brightly wrapped boxes that weren't there before. Confused, she picked one up and lifted the lid. Inside was the necklace she was admiring in the window that day at the jewelry store.

On a whim, Jordan returned the next day to look at it closer. The clerk said it was a one of a kind and had sold that morning, but would be happy to show her something in a similar range. That similar range was over a grand. What she assumed was a very pretty set of costume jewelry was in fact an heirloom set of genuine stones and 18 caret gold. Thanking the clerk for her time, Jordan left the shop a little disappointed that the set wasn't some mass produced set of electroplate and glass...and a little happy she wasn't tempted to pick it up with the money she had left over from the advance Louis gave her on the painting.

Jordan ran her fingertip over the honey-colored stones and then it hit her right between her own honey-colored eyes.

"You two-faced piece of..." she growled clutching both boxes to her chest.

She stopped long enough to scoop up her keys but didn't take the time to catch the elevator. Robe and all, Jordan flew out of her apartment and ran down the three flights of stairs to catch Woody before he could drive off.

She caught him on the sidewalk out in front of the building.

"STOP! RIGHT! THERE!"

With his head low and his ears tucked in the collar of his coat, Woody was thumbing the key to his car and contemplating opening one of his matching set of scotch bottles when he heard Jordan's yell.

"Of all the HYPOCRITICAL ...dumbASS...!"

He didn't care that she was yelling like a banshee at him. All he saw was bare feet ...and barely covered skin...that would, in a matter of seconds, turn as blue as that excuse for a robe she was wearing. He hurried up to meet her before she could take another step "Jordan, what the hell are you doing? It's freezing..."

He tried to take her arm and lead her back in the building, but Jordan stood firm.

"Would you care to explain this?" she said holding out the boxes to him.

Woody pulled his coat off and wrapped it around her shoulders when it became apparent he was going to have to bodily drag her back inside. "You liked them and I thought they'd look nice on you," he shrugged.

"So you forked out enough money, which you claim you didn't have to buy the Roby...just because I LIKED THEM." Jordan's heaes dug in and her voice hissed with every last word.

Woody didn't answer until he had her at the steps leading in the building. Short of tossing her over his shoulder, he knew he'd have to do some explaining...and fast...before her lips turned any bluer.

"I had a few bucks saved up towards the robot. I put the rest on credit. The Roby would have sat in a box on my bookshelf. The only person to enjoy it would be me. The jewelry? I don't know. I thought because you picked it out...maybe you'd wear it...and...and..."

"And...?" she demanded.

Woody looked at a point above her head and said, "I figured when I saw you wear it I could...I could live vicariously. Around your neck is the closest I'll ever get to your heart..."

Jordan opened her mouth to argue but couldn't find the words. His admission unarmed her leaving him to looking like he wished the ground to swallow him whole and her suddenly feeling foolish for standing out in the cold with nothing on but a few yards of paper-thin silk and Woody's suede jacket.

All she could do was say, "Oh."

Woody watched the crystalline air of her sigh float over her colorless cheeks. He worked to keep his expression impassive, but inside he smiled. "As much as arguing with you is the highlight of my life...I think maybe we need to talk. Why don't you offer to make me a cup of coffee? We need to get you inside..."

Jordan could feel herself shivering to the point Woody could see his thick coat quivering around her shoulders. Her teeth were chattering too badly to answer him. She didn't protest when he pulled her inside the building and punched the button to her floor.

She didn't utter a word when he pulled her to him in the elevator to try to warm her up, either. She relished his warmth and attention through her chattering teeth and shivering body. She even welcomed his soft "Damn it, woman. You're a doctor…you should know better than this. You've seen what exposure can do to bodies…" that he whispered in her ear before he kissed the top of her head.

And she still remained silent when he took the keys out of her cold fingers, opened her door, sat her on the couch and wrapped her up in a soft, fleece blanket while he made the coffee himself. As a matter of fact, she couldn't say anything until he had gotten about a half a cup of the warm liquid in her. "Better?" he asked, when he saw that her shivering had subsided and her lips were losing their bluish tint.

"Yes. Thanks."

Woody still noted that she was shivering, but it wasn't as bad as it was a few minutes ago. "Feel like talking?"

She nodded, still trying to chug the warm coffee down in an effort to warm up all the way. He pried the cup out of her hand and refilled it before starting. He brought it back to her, but instead of joining her on the couch again, he sat on the floor beside her, so he could look in her eyes while she was lying on the couch still wrapped in the blanket. Tentatively, he ran an index finger down her cheek…as much reassuring himself that she was really warming up and her that his words, as well as his gestures, were going to be gentle this time.

"I'm sorry, Jordan," he began in a soft, husky voice.

Her eyes widened. She hadn't heard him use that tone of voice with her in a long time. "What for?"

His lips twisted up in a wry smile. "For being a jackass about the roby. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did when I found out you had sent it. But, you have to admit, I haven't been myself lately…"

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"The fact that no one in the morgue hardly talks to me any longer….most of the people in my own precinct hate me…and you…my best friend…I haven't had a decent conversation with you since the day I was shot."

Jordan lowered her head. "But I shouldn't have…not then, at least …"

"Hey." Woody reached out and lifted her chin so that she looked him in the eyes. "You were speaking from your heart that afternoon. I should have known that…and listened. Just like your buying the roby for me was from your heart…it wasn't pity…I know that. I just had to have some excuse to justify bringing it back to you. Deep down…I know it wasn't pity…do you know what it was, Jordan?"

Jordan shook her head. She knew why she had bought him the roby…but she wanted to hear his explanation for it.

"It was sacrifice…you gave up something you loved…the Lewis Jefferies print…to buy me something I wanted and loved…even though you knew I may never figure out that you did it. You were willing to remain anonymous with your gift just to see me enjoy it…that gave you happiness….just like seeing you wearing the jewelry I gave you will bring me happiness…"

She nodded. He did understand.

"I never should have approached you the way I did tonight…it was just….I don't know…confusing." Woody chuckled and ran his fingers through his hair. "At first I couldn't imagine why you did it other than pity…but I know differently now.

"And I'm sorry for everything I said about JD."

"But you were right about him," Jordan whispered, her cheeks coloring delicately at the memory.

"Still…I shouldn't have said it... …especially after the way I acted. That was your business. And I'm sorry about what I said about your 'intimacy issues'. I had no room to talk. Those things never should have been said."

"I'm sorry, too, Woody. I didn't exactly play fair with you, either. I should have been honest with you about the roby when we were eating dinner New Year's Eve at Mike's. I just didn't know how you would react if you knew I sent you the antique robot…"

Woody chuckled. "If it makes you feel any better, I probably would have reacted the exact same way I did tonight." He was rewarded by hearing Jordan join him in chuckling over his argument. "And I really shouldn't have forced your hand by leaving the jewelry for you the way I did on the table. I should have been man enough to give it to you straight out. I knew… deep down inside, I knew…you'd give it back to me the same way I gave you back the robot.

"And that, Jordan…was my plan."

Jordan looked at Woody for a moment…confusion glazing her eyes. "I don't understand…"

Woody gently took the coffee cup out of her hands and moved to sit beside her on the couch, taking both of her hands in hers. "Do you realize that the dinner we ate at Mike's the other night was the first time we had talked about anything without a dead body between us in the last year? Do you know how good that felt…how much I _cherished _that?" He licked his lips and looked a way for a minute to regain his composure. "And I knew that if I gave you the jewelry, you'd chase me down…confront me…and we could do that again…talk to each other without a dead body between us…." He looked down into her eyes that were still mirroring confusing. "I guess what I'm trying to say is exactly what you told me in your Christmas card…I miss us talking together…I miss dancing with you….I miss you doing that stupid thing you do in elevators that embarrasses the shit out of me. I miss… I miss _you_, Jordan."

"Pretty elaborate way to get a woman to talk to you detective," she said with a watery smile.

"Pathetic huh?"

"No. It's kind of sweet..."

Jordan squeezed his hands gently before she let them go and tossed the blanket away. "You know, I'd like to take a better look at those stones..."

Woody's smile was as bright as the noonday sun as he bound of the sofa to grab the boxes. Like a kid on Christmas morning, he finished ripping the paper of and pulled the necklace from its box. When he turned back around he realized Jordan was standing right behind him with her own expectant smile on her face.

"They were part of a collection that came up for sale last spring. The owner of the shop picked it up, but changed his mind, so he put them out for sale," Woody explained excitedly. He proudly held the necklace up for Jordan's perusal. "The jeweler said there are five different kinds of gems...the rest kind of went over my head. All I knew was when I held it in my hand I knew it was perfect."

Jordan had to chuckle. That was the same way she felt in the antique store when the proprietor was giving her the specifics about the robot. She was clueless but when she picked up that simple tin man...

She ran a fingertip across the teardrop shaped gems that fringed to V of the necklace watching their delicate weight dangle from the center cluster of antique gold and cabochon cut jewels.

"Would you like to try it on?"

She bit her lip and nodded. Woody opened the clasp and asked her to turn around.

Jordan loosened the collar of her robe and pulled her hair up. The robe was suddenly dangerously loose but Jordan didn't care. She was feeling dangerous. She felt a flutter in her chest, which bordered on egoistical, at the mere thought of him looking at her.

Woody slipped the chain around her neck and couldn't help himself but look over her shoulder to see the jewels lay comfortably against the base of her neck and was treated to the sight of the flawless skin that stretched over her breastbone. She knew he didn't mean it but his whisper turned her insides hot and slick, "I was right. It looks amazing on you."

She turned and looked him straight in the eye. "Yes, it does..."

If he didn't know better Woody would have sworn she had a wicked gleam in her eye. He blinked twice trying to explain it away by blaming to on the reflection of the gems around her neck.

He palmed her the matching earrings and cleared his throat. "I probably should be leaving..."

"What's your hurry?" She smiled holding the earrings up for a second before setting them on the table by the box that contained the Roby. "Stay Woody."

Why did her voice suddenly sound as silky as her robe? "I...I don't think that would be a very good idea..."

Her smile broadened and she slowly opened the shipping box and took the robot out. "He's very endearing you know," she chuckled tracing her finger over the dent. "Cute, but...old fashioned...so unassuming until you wind him up."

Jordan did just that. She wound the little key in the back a few clicks and watched the arms move up and down. "Normally, it's not something I'd give a second thought about but somehow...before I knew it... Here," she said handing it to him. "Keep it. He belongs with you."

* * *

There they were, like O Henry's lovers. Each making a sacrifice for the other's happiness. Jordan may have thought she lost sight of what Louis was trying to say in his painting but in actuality, she was living it that very moment. The artist tried to portray the feeling that love was the opening of one's soul...forfeiting the safety of dark walls of loneliness to find the bright colors of a world that can only be seen through the sacrificing the safety of those walls.

Little did she know that at that very moment in a gallery across town, Louis himself was packing up the very same painting up to be shipped back to its owner the next morning. He scribbled a quick note and slipped it inside the carton.

_Some British chap had his eye on this today. He was adamant but I just didn't have the heart to sell it to him. Whatever you think you are going through right now just remember tomorrow is always the perfect day for a new beginning. You gave me some good advice once upon a time...take mine this time. And consider this a gift...again. All the Best, L. _

* * *

Woody looked at the little tin man in his hand and shook his head. "Okay, but there's something more I want."

Jordan arched her eyebrow. "Really?" Her heart began to pound hoping beyond hope... "What?"

He put the roby down right next to the earrings...and he showed her.


	7. Happy New Year

**Epilogue: **

**Happy Holidays. from, Nina.**

Woody cupped her face in palms of his hands and kissed her softly. Jordan was thrown back to New Year's Eve. That night he walked away leaving her lonely and frustrated. This time she didn't know if she could let him walk away as easily.

Jordan wasn't naive. She knew there were risks. But standing there with all their cards on the table Jordan's heart couldn't see any bigger risk then letting this moment pass. Expensive gifts weren't the true issue and she, for one, was tired of dancing around it.

She pushed his hands away, wrapped her own arms around his neck and opened her mouth under his, tumbling out of the safety of her emotional walls hoping...praying that even after everything they'd been through , Woody would be there to catch her.

Woody just stood there motionless. Jordan opened her eyes to find his gaze on her, fierce and dark, as if he was thinking the same thoughts. It was now or never.

"You can touch me," she murmured.

"If I do you'll disappear with the rest of my dream," he whispered back.

"But you're not dreaming." she smiled. "Stay with me tonight, Woody. Please."

He answered by wrapping his arms tightly around her and arching his mouth firmly over hers. The gentle touches she expected gave way to something that made her brain blessedly fuzzy.

Fuzzy to the point where she didn't realize his hands had stopped their gentle kneading of her back to skim over her bare shoulders as he brushed her robe aside.

Jordan's voice was surprisingly clear even though her tongue was rebelling. "I need you, Woody. Stay. Please."

Woody looped his arm around her knees lifted her high on his chest. He paused a second to take a completely candid, and utterly masculine, look at the woman in his arms...from the bow of her softly pink lips, past the sparkling stones around her neck, to the fine diamond shaped bones of her knees...and everything in between. In his arms, she was more beautiful then his wildest fantasies.

"Try and make me leave," he answered brushing her lips with his.

Jordan sank slowly into the bed and met his kisses eagerly. She reveled in the slow burn warming her blood, chasing the cold from her extremities, leaving her skin beginning to glow.

He sighed as she tugged at his shirt helping him shrug it aside. Instead of pulling him close to feel that tingle of flesh meeting flesh for the first time, Jordan stopped and gingerly traced the lines of his scars.

"A dent where his heart should be" she murmured to herself.

"What?" he asked breathlessly.

"Nothing," she smiled. "Kiss me."

He did. Bracing his hands on either side of her he leaned over and took her mouth again. Just mouth to mouth, warm and soft, a tender slide of lips and tongue, a clever, gentle scrape of teeth. Jordan shook and it had nothing to do with the leftover chill. Still, she couldn't resist running her icy toes underneath the cuff of his pants.

Woody jumped and laughed at her smug smile. "We need to do something about that."

"So far you're doing nicely. But I could always use some more attention," she said thickly.

He rolled away long enough to finish pulling the rest of his clothes off only to return and ask, "Now where was I?"

"Here..." Jordan said arching her neck, pointing to the hollow spot just below her jaw. Woody took only a heartbeat to comply. His mouth cruised over her earlobe. Her eyes were already half shut as she angled her head to give him farther access to the side of her neck. Then his hand slid over to cup her breast, making her forget how to breathe.

Jordan arched her body against his, shuddered, and slid down again. He followed her down holding her for a moment just for the sheer pleasure of it. A sound of utter contentment hummed in the back of his throat as her hands glided lightly over his back. Jordan took moment to taste the salty tang of his skin. Inhaling his unique smell...God, she wanted this. She wanted him.

"Jordan...are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life," she admitted honestly.

Jordan instinctively yielded to him. With JD and most every other man in her life, sex was always a contest of give and take. Each of them searching, grasping...looking for satisfaction. Like prizefighters in the ring, the victor would be the last one standing. Somehow she felt it would be different this time. She just knew her surrender would be the key to his own seduction. As his hands and mouth began to move over her she knew without a shadow of a doubt he wouldn't let her down. Four years of foreplay were leading to an unbelievable summit. There would time later to stake her own claim on him. For now she would just enjoy the ride.

_And oh, what a ride it is_, she thought to herself with a throaty moan. Need was already kindling, spreading, burning her up from the inside out. Jordan spread her legs making room for him between them.

Woody could see the light in her eyes changing from sweet melted cinnamon to warm brandy...giving them just as much punch. He watched those same eyes take on a totally new smoky hue when he nudged her knees farther apart and swallowed her warm and husky sigh as he slid inside.

Slowly, surely, they began to move.

He reached for her hands, lacing her fingers with his, and raising their arms over her head...forcing her body to naturally arch into his. Jordan matched him long, slow stroke for long, slow _torturous_ stroke. Her breathing grew heavy with his as their hips rose and fell in time to a dance as old as time. Whatever chill she had from outside had long been replaced and a fine film of moisture that covered her body. Her mouth moved with his, drowning out the little moans of pleasure that were coming from deep inside him.

Some coherent corner of her psyche realized there were no soft whispers of instruction or preference that naturally passed between new lovers. His touch was sure and confident making her feel like they had made love a thousand times. Like somehow they _knew_ each other before...almost as if they were lovers in a former life. _Soulmates, _Lily would call it. When two souls enviably find each other life after life. Of course Jordan didn't know if she believed in such concepts but if she didn't know better Jordan would think somewhere in time their souls were once deeply in...

"I love you."

Jordan was so lost in her thoughts and what he was doing to her body that his whisper came out of nowhere. She must have reacted because he stopped moving and untangled his hands from hers, cradled her face in his hands. Jordan was dimly aware of the feeling of moisture. When he rubbed his thumbs over her temples she realized that his fingers were wet from her tears. He kissed her. Not the mind-numbing lip-locks they had been sharing, but a caress that was softer then a heartbeat and more potent then a shot of Irish whiskey. It was all it took for Jordan to begin to feel the first tingles of her orgasm. Blindly, she reached out for his hips, digging her fingers into the taunt flesh, gasping, begging for him to move again.

Woody smiled smugly and flexed his hips drawing himself out only to drive back in with a force that drove her a full two inches closer to the headboard.

"Yyyyessss..." she sighed.

Gradually his movements grew slower, more intimate. Over and over Woody rocked taking her one step higher and leaving her hovering with every stroke.

"Say it Jordan," he whispered hotly against her ear. "Tell me...I need to hear it... Please..."

"I love you."

It was a phrase that never came easy for her. To her amazement...and his...the words bubbled out her like water from a spring. Natural and easy because she had sighed them in her dreams for years.

There was a catch in her throat as her orgasm took her breath away. Woody inhaled the gasp greedily and stayed with her pushing her to yet another plane.

"More, Jordan..._more_" he demanded, his voice as rough as raw silk.

No. How could he? She never..._oh!_

Jordan swallowed, fighting her way through the waves of pleasure. Higher and higher she flew, until she screamed with release.

The primal sound of her cry snapped the thin thread of his control shooting him to that magical place with her.

* * *

Jordan was the first to move. Her hands slid lazily over the curve of his hip, to the small of his back, to the wings of his shoulder blades. He was still deep inside her; all warm, satisfied male...

...and he was all hers.

As his heart slowly floated back to earth, Woody lifted his head and looked in her eyes. "Wow."

She almost purred with pleasure and agreed with a breathless chuckle. "Oh yeah."

He traced her plumb lip with the pad of his thumb. To Jordan's amazement the simple gesture made her body shiver with aftershocks...a fact that Woody was well aware of in his intimate position by the slow, warm curl of his mouth. He continued his gentle post coital inspection by grazing his fingertips down her neck and traced the fine gold links of the necklace chain before settling the palm of his hand over the steady beat of her heart.

"Here. This is what I want," he said solemnly. "After tonight I won't settle for anything less. I can't. Ever since we met, I've only wanted to be with..."

She put her finger to his lips. There would be time for confession later. The past was the past. She wanted to look forward. "You already have it Woody," she answered covering her hand with his. "You didn't even have to ask."

There was a light in his eyes that was so sincere that her heart skipped a beat. "I love you now...and every day"

Instead of a feeling of entrapment, Jordan could hear music in her head. She kissed him softly. "I love you, too, Woody."

Woody rolled off of her to pull the covers up tight. Once they were tucked in, he snuggled her close and ran his toes over hers, satisfied they were toasty and warm. Then he closed his eyes. The gentle touch said so much and it didn't escape Jordan's warmly sated brain. She smiled against his neck. She knew he loved her and would protect her even from herself. They still had a long road ahead of them. She had no doubts that trust would come. They were more then halfway there already. He was so relaxed next to her that she assumed he was asleep. She kissed his collar bone, ready to join him when his open hand stealthily moved against her hip and slid between her legs, finding the perfect way to make her brain do that blank thing again.

Yes, it was going to be a very _Happy_ New Year's.


End file.
